


Tugging at the Heartstrings

by orphan_account



Category: Wet Hot American Summer (2001), Wet Hot American Summer: First Day of Camp (TV)
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Fluff, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7674160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben gets cuddly when he's drunk. There are also schmoopy emotions. I'm bad at summaries. Ben and McKinley are just really in love, okay?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tugging at the Heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just a small ficlet of a scene where Ben and McKinley are grossly in love. Please enjoy, and any and all feedback is appreciated.

Music tugged at Ben’s senses through the alcohol, gentle and guiding with its soft, insistent presence. Vaguely, he was aware of swaying back and forth, another cup of something being shoved into his hand, and smiling a smile that felt almost too big on his face. He felt like the moon; brilliant and bright and soft. The smoky tang of the fire whirled around him along with the sounds of his friends’ laughter and debauchery, and on instinct, Ben reached out for a familiar wrist.

He smiled upwards and stared at McKinley who was rosy faced with beer and dancing. The other boy had his sweatshirt wrapped around his head in a sloppy attempt to keep his hair out of his face, and his blue Niagara Falls shirt had been rolled up earlier by Lindsay into something more of a crop top. On his stomach, in black Sharpie marker, was scrawled, “Pong Champ,” but the “P” had been drawn to look more like a “D.” He beamed down at Ben. 

“Can I help you, sir?” McKinley asked, swaying slightly.

Ben just kept staring until McKinley raised a brow, and tugged him upwards so that they stood face to face.

From somewhere that felt both too far and too close, Ben heard whoops and hollers and the expected “Gaaaay!” when McKinley shamelessly licked a filthy, open kiss into Ben’s mouth. Distantly, he realized McKinley was flipping off their crowd of voyeurs before dragging Ben off towards the bunks.

“Sleepy,” Ben murmured, wrapping himself around McKinley halfway through the walk back.

“I can tell,” McKinley laughed, failing at disentangling himself from his boyfriend. “That’s why I, being a gentleman, am walking you back.” He twisted around in Ben’s arms and pressed a few kisses to his jawline. Ben didn’t want to let go, but McKinley begun maneuvering Ben so that he leaned on him, and after a much too long walk with his eyes closed, Ben found himself plopped onto a bed. He reached up with his hands, smiling when they met McKinley’s. 

“Where’re we?” he slurred, kicking off his shoes so that they clattered onto the floor.

“Bed,” McKinley answered. There was a moment of terrible emptiness when he pulled away from Ben, but he quickly returned and shoved a glass of something into Ben’s hands. “Drink, or else you’ll have the hangover from hell tomorrow, and I doubt you want that while you’re working with the theater kids.” Ben dutifully sat up, drained the glass in one fell swoop, clanked it down onto the floor, and then pulled McKinley on top of him. He inhaled, savoring the scent of campfire and booze and McKinley.

“I love you,” he murmured against McKinley’s neck. Ben rolled them over so that he lay on top, and cherished the surprised laugh from his boyfriend at the action. “I know—” He sucked in a breath, trying to steady himself, “I know you might not be able to say it back, but, I just want you to know. I _really_ love you.”

There was a beat of silence where they stared at each other, shy smiles teasing at their lips, before McKinley pressed a kiss against Ben’s shoulder. “God, you’re like an octopus when you drink,” he laughed. Ben, to his credit, tangled their legs together and pillowed his head on McKinley’s chest. McKinley returned the gesture by wrapping arms around Ben’s waist. He pressed his nose against Ben’s temple, and they lay there, warm and entwined.

It was silent save for the soft puffs of their breaths, and Ben was nearly asleep before he heard it. A quiet, hesitant voice tugging at him. “I love you too, Ben. I love you more than I think I’ve ever loved anything, and that scares the  _ shit _ out of me. But I love you. So much.” The arms around Ben’s waist tightened just slightly. Ben lifted his head and struggled to focus through drunken vision, but he knew he was smiling again, the goofy one that Susie had pointed out on a number of occasions when Ben was absolutely vibrating with excitement. Words failed him, as they often do when one is presented with something too perfect for human understanding, and so he opted for something much simpler. Leaning in, he kissed McKinley. 

It didn’t carry the electricity of their first kiss, nor the heat of their ones that preceded late nights in empty bunks, or even the casual pecks that Ben had grown accustomed to stealing around camp. This kiss was bright like a sliver of moonlight is as it breaks through an overcast sky; gentle and illuminating and tugging at the heart. 

Ben could get used to these kinds of kisses.


End file.
